“The card bore Hardigras’s signature,” said the Presiding Judge. “The evidence of handwriting experts shows that the writing on all Hardigras’s communications is identical. It is certainly one and the same man who wrote these letters which follow when they do not announce the crime.”
When M. Supia left the witness box the usher called Prince Hippothadee. A great commotion arose in Court. The ladies uttered a faint, “Ah! Ah!” of satisfaction. Some of them stood up and there were cries of “Sit down! Sit down!”
The Prince strode forward with great dignity. He wore his monocle, was quietly, but smartly, dressed in a black morning suit, fitting tightly at the waist — he was in mourning for Mlle. Supia — and his hair was lightly waved. His evidence regarding the scene when Titin brought back Mlle. Agagnosc was merely a corroboration of M. Supia’s story. As to his engagement and Titin’s attitude towards it, he did not think it necessary to refer to the accused’s visit on the night when he gave him a piece of his mind with a knife at his throat. That would have been to entrench on the story of his parentage which in the circumstances, Hippothadee preferred to omit.
It may be mentioned that the Transylvania consul, while waiting for instructions, had taken the necessary steps to induce the Court to pass over as lightly as possible, this part of Titin’s life, the mention of which might have caused some embarrassment to a friendly power. Other events had arisen which thrust into the background Comte Valdar’s meteoric visit. And the evidence in the case was sufficiently preponderant to make it unnecessary to recall a few deplorable attempts to buy furniture and sell jewelry.
Re that as it may, Prince Hippothadee produced the impression, if not of sparing his rival, at least of taking no pains to heap abuse on him. And it was enacted entirely in the grand manner. Lastly, he spoke of the Princess of Transylvania, only to indulge in a tactful eulogy: “As a girl she knew how to enforce her authority on a dangerous madman; as a woman she was the best of wives.”
The Prince withdrew from the witness box amid a flattering murmur of approbation. He was succeeded by the handwriting experts whose business it was to establish the identity of Hardigras and Titin from the peculiarity of the writing.
Lastly, Princess Antoinette of Transylvania was called. As they watched her advance so weak and frail, all her energies strained to the breaking point, even the hearts of those most hardened, by daily contact with the great judicial machine, were softened. It seemed as if she would not reach the witness box. With an overwhelming effort she clung to it. At a sign from the Presiding Judge the usher offered her a seat. She thrust it aside. A cry burst from her lips: “He is innocent!” and she sobbed aloud.
A wave of emotion passed through the Court. The Presiding Judge himself was moved. After a pause of a few moments, when she partly had recovered her calmness, he said in a paternal voice:
“Now then, madame.... But first swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth.”
“I swear,” she said in a stifled voice.... “I swear it is all my fault. I am the guilty one.”
“Come, madame, I will ask you a question or two. You say Titin is innocent.”
“Yes, if he were not innocent I should not have loved him.”
At these words of supreme artlessness a thrill passed through the Court.
“And yet, madame, it was not he, you married.”
“That was my crime. It is I who have killed Titin; for he is dead or he would be here to answer these charges. Titin is the best of men. We loved each other. We were to wait patiently. And then they told me he loved another. I was disgracefully deceived, and I rushed into this marriage without thinking. Then the thing was done. I heard nothing more of him. He has taken his own life, monsieur le President. Titin is dead and the reason that I too am not dead is because I was determined to come here and tell you that this Hardigras who has committed every crime is not Titin. Titin is dead.”
Always she harked back to that thought in her despair. She was beating her head against the barrier behind which she saw only one thing — Titin’s death.
“You will admit that at certain times he disguised himself for Carnival purposes as Hardigras?”
“I don’t know,” she answered uneasily, aghast at what she had said or at what they were trying to make her say...
“You don’t know. You know quite well that Hardigras who kidnapped you, and Titin who brought you back are one and the same person. If they are not one and the same, say so. Remember you have sworn to speak the truth, the whole truth.”
She drew herself up, paler and more agitated than before. The Court hung on her words. In a voice that was but a whisper and yet could be heard in the farthest corner, the silence was so tense, she said:
“Yes, since I have sworn to tell the whole truth, I’ll tell you that on that day they were the same. They were the same because there could not be two men in the world with the courage to carry off a girl who did not know what she was doing and thought she was deserted by every one, even by him in whom she had put her trust. — There could not be two men in the world to rescue me as Hardigras did and to restore me to my family as Titin did.” And she added with clasped hands: “If I have done harm in saying so, may God and Titin forgive me.”
“When you returned home your feelings were not the same. There was a change....”
“Yes, there was a change. We had loved each other for a long time, but we had never confessed as much. I was waiting for him to speak. But he was too fastidious. But on that day we fell into each other’s arms — that was better than any words.... He kissed me as a man kisses his promised wife and he took me back to my family. And now it is said that to be revenged — on whom or what I ask? — he committed this unspeakable crime, when I am the only one at fault. Oh, it is too absurd and you cannot believe it. I appeal to all those who know Titin. No one here believes it, nor even those who accuse him.”
As she spoke she recovered her strength, the color came to her cheeks, and a dark gleam lit up her eyes, gazing fixedly at Supia and Hippothadee, who lowered their heads. Some applause broke out at the back of the Court. Then when silence was restored once more, Pistafun’s voice was heard:
“Well done, Toinetta. You speak from the heart. But there’s nothing to fear. Take it from me, Titin is not dead. If he were here he would perhaps tell us what did occur.”
Just then the Presiding Judge, seemingly preoccupied by a communication made to him, turned to the jury: “Gentlemen, as a matter of fact, Titin is not dead. He was arrested as he was entering the Courts. I have given instructions for him to be brought here.”
“Well, there you are! We shall hear the truth,” exclaimed Pistafun.
CHAPTER XXIV
IN WHICH HARDIGRAS PLAYS THE PART OF PUBLIC PROSECUTOR BUT NONE THE LESS IS CONDEMNED TO DEATH
MANY SCENES ARE witnessed in a French Criminal Court. Incidents arise of so unexpected a character that the trial itself is thrown into confusion and the judges, borne down by a flood of disclosures, vainly seek to shelter themselves behind the unstable barrier of procedure. Seldom, however, has there been an instance of the Judge at a Criminal Court, the Public Prosecutor, the Solicitor-General, the Counsel for the Defense, and other interested parties, neglecting the usual order of procedure to follow, as dismayed and powerless onlookers, a duel to the death between two men whom the course of events had set one against the other.
The Presiding Judge, whose intention was to suspend the hearing in order to consult his colleague and take such measures as might be called for by the unexpected announcement of Titin’s presence, had not uttered a word when the door of the witnesses’ room was noisily flung open and Titin, dragging behind him MM. Souques and Ordinal, whom he seemed to have arrested, came rushing into Court like a man possessed. Doubtless his state of fury was increased tenfold by the fact that the two detectives had “nabbed” him at the moment when he was entering the Courts on his own initiative. At all events he saw neither Antoinette, who had fainted in the arms o
f Mme. Papajeudi and her daughters, nor Prince Hippothadee, who had lost all his bravado and wished himself hundreds of miles away in the fastnesses of Transylvania. His eyes, his rage, his frenzy, fell on one man whom he seemed to paralyze — and that man was M. Hyacinthe Supia.
Let us at once say that his friends regretted to see him appear before his judges in this half-demented state. They had known him in evil days to display greater self-possession. It was all the more pity that his attitude should support those who, remembering his threats, had represented him as a demon of revenge. There are times when the most prudent are carried away in spite of themselves by the mad gallop in their blood.
“The real murderer is this man!” he yelled.
Had not MM. Souques and Ordinal been present to hold him back he would have thrown himself upon the “tyrant.”
“It was he who hanged his daughter after she was already dead. It was he who tied Hardigras’s card round her neck.”
A general protest of horror and incredulity passed through the Court. Faced by so monstrous an accusation, M. Supia, like an automaton moved by an electric wire, made such convulsive gestures that it looked as if he might scatter into the void. His arms and legs seemed about to fly apart, while the top of the mechanism, before resuming its balance, emitted a grating sound like a broken spring. In any other circumstances his involuntary antics would have caused laughter. Now, however, they appalled.
The Public Prosecutor rose to intervene. But the Presiding Judge motioned to him to keep his seat. From all appearance Titin was half crazy and was in the act of ruining himself. But in truth he was in his right senses and went on:
“You are a criminal — you who do not scruple to send me to the guillotine so that no one should suspect your daughter of hanging herself because she could not bear what was happening under your roof.”
“He lies,” snarled the “tyrant.”
“Do you deny that you hanged your daughter again after discovering that she was dead so as to make it appear as if she had been strangled before she was hanged? Do you deny that you tied round her neck the card that some villain, stealing from me the name of Hardigras, sent you that very night? Gentlemen,” went on Titin, turning to the jury, “he not only found among his letters, the letter posted by Pistafun, he found also the card which he hoped would send me to the scaffold.”
“He lies, he lies,” gasped the “tyrant.”
“Where are your proofs?” asked Supia’s counsel.
“Proofs! I will give you proofs — the most terrible, the most tragic proofs. As you may suppose if I have delayed coming here to set Pistafun free and to defend myself, it is because I was seeking for those proofs.... Pistafun has told you the truth. He knew nothing of the contents of the letter that he had to post by an arrangement often used for this purpose. And I am telling you the truth when I assert that I did not write that letter posted in La Fourca any more than I wrote that card signed Hardigras posted direct in Nice, as the inquiry will prove.”
“I deny that,” yelped Supia. “No such card was ever in my possession.”
“Scoundrel! You were seen fixing the card round your daughter’s neck.”
“Who saw him?” clamored several voices.
“I will tell you. The things that I will not tell you I will leave you to guess. If that does not satisfy you, you can ask Prince Hippothadee for a few more details. As far as I am concerned I do not ask for them, for there are more sinned against than sinning in this horrible business.... Gentlemen, the poor girl in her secret heart loved Prince Hippothadee. She may have believed that she was going to marry him. When he married Mlle. Agagnosc she placed her hopes in a divorce. I can state positively that Mme. Supia won’t deny being the first to encourage her in that delusion....
“On the night of the tragedy Caroline was awakened by a sound coming from the ground floor. She went downstairs without troubling to dress. She went down to the drawing-room. Prince Hippothadee was staying the night at La Patentaine. I am in a position to state that he did not spend the night in his own room. And it was because of that fact that the poor girl hanged herself.”
“But this is disgraceful,” cried Prince Hippothadee, amid the excitement.
“That is the plain speech that I expected from him,” returned Titin. “Yes, it is disgraceful and you will have evidence of the disgrace. I swear it or I should be a blackguard. Why cannot I defend myself and pass over in silence these monstrosities? Because my life and honor are at stake — and I must defend myself as best I can.... Poor Caroline hanged herself.... Meantime, M. Supia arrives. He stumbles against his daughter’s dead body. He sinks to the floor with a groan of terror. The door before him opens and it is then Mme. Supia utters a frightful cry of despair which should have awakened the Prince on the first floor had he been on the first floor. Gentlemen, there was no need to call the Prince. He had no need to come downstairs. He had but a few steps to make to hold poor Caroline in his arms and endeavor to restore her to life, while Mme. Supia swooned at the awful sight, and M. Supia thinking only of suppressing a scandal had already taken the infamous card from his pocket. And in this way the frightful farce was stage-managed so that he could demand my head....
“To enable them to take every precaution these gentlemen needed half an hour’s grace — half an hour was not too long in which to prepare their scheme and leave nothing to chance. And that is why it was agreed that M. Supia should remain in a faint before Mme. Supia, standing at the door of the drawing-room, uttered her despairing cry. For after that nothing remained for Prince Hippothadee to do but to run for help; that was the obvious thing. We know at what hour M. Supia reached La Patentaine and we know at what hour Prince Hippothadee went for the mayor; in other words, half an hour later. They had to discover, therefore, some means of explaining away this half hour during which the lights at La Patentaine were still out. Well, they found it in the story of Supia’s half hour fainting fit and in putting off Mme. Supia’s cry of despair for half an hour.”
“All this is a ridiculous invention,” gasped Hippothadee. “I challenge this wretched youth to prove what he says,” exclaimed the “tyrant”.
“Now, this cry that failed to awaken the Prince for good reason, did arouse others who came at once and saw what was taking place during the half hour in question.”
“Names, names,” clamored several voices.
“Gentlemen,” returned Titin seemingly somewhat embarrassed, a fact that did not escape either Supia or the Prince, “you are aware that Castel, M. Supia’s chauffeur, slept at La Patentaine.”
“It has been proved that he did not sleep there on this particular night,” said Supia.
“That’s true, but someone was expecting him that night in the servants’ quarters.”
“That’s what you say. Now you must tell us who it was,” cried Hippothadee and Supia in unison. “Enough of this humbug. Enough of this nonsense. You promised to give proofs — out with them!”
“Quite right,” exclaimed several voices.
“You will understand, Titin,” said the Presiding Judge, intervening for the first time, “that everything you have said is so very terrible that it is impossible for you to evade giving proofs any longer.”
“Gentlemen, this witness is the mother of a family,” said Titin after casting a look round the Court, “and I hardly know if I have the right...
A violent outbreak ensued among Supia and Hippothadee and their friends. And a considerable murmur of disappointment arose from the rest of the assemblage.
“Let not these gentlemen halloo before they are out of the wood,” said Titin, whose frenzy had given place to a composure not less tragic. “This person was not the only one to hasten to the spot when Mme. Supia uttered her cry.”
“I am waiting,” said M. Supia.
“There was also your sister, Mme. Cioasa.”
“I could have sworn that!” burst out M. Supia with a hollow laugh. “Mme. Cioasa whom you have caused to disappear so that she sh
ould not come here and give you the lie!”
An increasing murmur of hostility towards Titin began to be shown at the back of the Court. The public seemed to be taking umbrage at the promise of evidence that he was in no position to furnish. Titin frequently turned his eyes to the back of the Court. But it was not Toinetta for whom he was looking. At last he seemed to make up his mind:
“Gentlemen,” he said, addressing the jury in a voice of despair, “a third person promised to come here and repeat the facts as I have given them to you. That person knew the truth better than anyone, for she was involved in it, and no one could refute her.”
“Name! Name!”
“I ask that Mme. Supia should be called.”
The effect was overwhelming. Mme. Supia’s name was on every lip, and a thrill of excitement stirred the Court. M. Supia straightway resumed his gesticulations. By wildly waving his arms like a semaphone, and by his sharp, frantic tone of voice, he managed to convey that he protested with all his might against his wife’s appearance in Court. It would destroy her health, surely, if it did not drive her mad.
“I repeat that it is Mme. Supia herself who asks to be heard,” persisted Titin.
Just then an usher strode up behind the Presiding Judge and whispered to him. It was assumed that Mme. Supia had arrived at the Court and, in accordance with Titin’s statement, she had asked to be heard. But the Presiding Judge’s face betrayed great agitation and it was in a low strained voice that he advised M. Supia to withdraw and asked Prince Hippothadee to be good enough to accompany him to his residence, where his presence was needed. When both had retired, he said:
“Gentlemen of the jury, we shall not hear Mme. Supia’s evidence. She has just been discovered — dead.”
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 429
